


Blaze of Glory

by Cyndi



Series: Danceverse [13]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, M/M, Other, Robot/Human Relationships, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4277016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyndi/pseuds/Cyndi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was better than watching a burial. .o. Danceverse, OptimusxMikaela</p>
<p>Original ff.net post date: July 4, 2013</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blaze of Glory

**Author's Note:**

> This short fic takes place in the Danceverse. I don't plan write any big Danceverse fics until I know what TF4 is going to do, because DOTM almost Jossed my Lines fic. I had fun writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it. Thanks!

_"And if I asked you, would you stop me from fallin'?  
_ _Would you save me? Would you save me?"_

Ultrabeat -- "Elysium"

.o

Mikaela groaned as she awoke. The cramped bunk barely gave her room to turn over. Her watch said two o'clock in the afternoon. She groaned again. Flying to Diego Garcia threw her sleeping schedule out of whack. She hated jet lag, but she hated not being close to Optimus even more. Besides, today was a holiday!

Voices sounded outside the closed door. Ratchet grousing, Optimus muttering and Elita giggling.

_Uh oh, what did she get into this time?_

Mikaela pulled an American flag tank top over her head and climbed into her favorite black cargo pants. She shoplifted them from the menswear section of a mall while she was in high school, but they never fit without a belt until after she had Elita. Sure, the pants were unflattering as sin if worn with the wrong shirt, but once upon a time the pockets stashed knives, cigarettes, cash, keys, her cell phone and condoms. Now, they usually carried her cell phone, cash, keys, pepper spray, granola bars, Band-Aids, small toys and sunscreen.

_My mommy pants,_  Mikaela mused at herself.  _Better than a big, fat backpack full of junk_.

Something metal banged into the floor outside the door. When Mikaela heard laughing instead of sobbing, she laced up her Doc Martens and twisted her brown hair into a ponytail. She put on a touch of mascara without a mirror and used the tiny bathroom adjacent to the bunk. Then she wandered into the scene unfolding in the main hangar.

Ratchet was busy giving Optimus a tune up. Elita, now three years old and quite precocious, watched anxiously.

Optimus pointed to the spindle-shaped object in his side-- something normally hidden by armor plating. "Elita, what is this?"

"Ummm..." Elita leaned closer. "T-cog!"

"Correct. And what does it do?"

Elita squatted down and did her best imitation of a transformation noise. She sprang onto her feet, arms outstretched. "T'ansform an' roll out!"

"That's right." Optimus smiled down at her and extended his four-foot-long hand above her. "Take five, kiddo."

Beaming, Elita jumped up and slapped her father's huge palm with her tiny one.

Ratchet grumbled and calibrated his scanner. "Yes, yes, enough. Didn't you say your T-cog doesn't sound right? Elita, stand back. Optimus, transform."

Mikaela ventured further into the hangar. "Come on, sweetie."

Elita ran into her arms. "Daddy broke his T-cog!"

"He did? Uh oh!"

"It isn't serious," said Optimus. "Good morning, Mikaela."

"Good morning." Mikaela smiled at him. "Is Elita helping with your tune-up?"

Optimus chuckled, winking one optic shut. "You could say that."

He laid down on his side and started to transform. Mikaela watched in fascination as his T-cog spun, flattened out and directed the rest of his body to become a Peterbilt. Software subroutines guided its speed. The cog emitted a horrible clank and skipped like gears when their teeth didn't quite meet. Optimus' transformation happened in a series of jerks.

Seeing a truck laying sideways on the ground wasn't a sight Mikaela saw every day. Optimus' T-cog remained in the same place while his body shifted around it.

"Now, back into robot mode," said Ratchet.

Again with the horrendous noise. Optimus' face scrunched up. "It's not my software."

"No." Ratchet frowned at his scanner. "You have an extremely small obstruction in your T-cog. Fortunately, it's easily removed. One moment. This might hurt a little."

The medi-bot's broad chartreuse back blocked Mikaela's view.

"Hold still now, Optimus. It's fragile. I'm surprised your transformation sequence didn't grind it apart. Almost...ah!"

"Ratchet, did you get-- " Optimus' eyes popped open wide. "Ow!"

"Got it." Ratchet straightened. Fine-tipped forceps protruded off the top of his wrist, and in them he held a clump of hardened orange Play-Doh. He held it out to Elita. "I think this belongs to you, young lady."

Elita's face turned beat red. She grabbed the Play-Doh and stuffed it into the pocket of her white overalls.

Mikaela scrunched her nose. "Elita? What did I tell you about making sure you don't leave anything loose in daddy's vehicle mode?"

"Oops. Lost that."

"Try to keep better track of your toys." Ratchet grumbled. "How many items have I pulled out of Optimus now?"

At that, Mikaela snickered. "This one is...I think it's number six. The sippy cup stuck in his butt was pretty funny, though."

Optimus imitated a snort and reattached his own armor. "What about the spoon coming out of my optic socket?"

"Oh, God, that was awful. The teddy bear in your windshield was a good one."

"My shoe!" Elita piped up.

"A shoe in the actuators," said Optimus and Mikaela at the same time.

"And a plastic shovel in the intakes." Ratchet cleaned off his forceps before retracting them. "I still don't know how you accomplished  _that_  one."

"Frankly, Ratchet, none of us have figured it out. Hey there," Optimus caught Elita when she jumped onto his hand and let her climb fearlessly onto his shoulder.

"Fireworks tonight!" Elita crowed. "I wanna watch."

"It might be a little past your bedtime." Optimus glanced at Mikaela.

"Well...it  _is_  the fourth of July..." Mikaela chewed her bottom lip. "Why not? But only for tonight, Elita."

"Yay!"

"Ugh. Noisy explosions don't look right without Ironhide." Ratchet stepped over Mikaela.

Optimus inspected his own T-cog. "You aren't going to assemble the mortar shells this year?"

Ratchet sagged like someone sucked all the life out of him. "It used to be Ironhide's favorite part of the holiday next to the fireworks themselves. Nobody built a forty eight inch shell quite like he did."

"Everyone looked forward to his finale," Optimus said gently. "I remember him the most on this holiday, old friend."

"Me, too." Ratchet simulated a sigh and resumed walking. From far off, he snarled at a new recruit, "Don't touch that barrel!"

"He got sad," said Elita.

"Yes," answered Optimus. "He misses Ironhide. We all miss him. It's a shame you're too young to remember him. The two of you would have been good friends."

"Really, Optimus?" Mikaela folded her arms and shook her head. "They'd be the two who caused the most trouble around here. Didn't you say he got a kick out of making Mearing jump by revving his engine at her?"

Optimus' expression softened. "Once, he made her dump coffee on her new suit. I had to speak to him about that one."

Elita yawned. She mussed up her honey-colored hair. Mikaela noticed with dismay that her daughter's overalls were covered in dirty hand prints.

_Ugh, whoever thought white clothes work for kids is a moron_.

She asked, "Has Elita eaten lunch yet?"

Optimus regarded Mikaela with a nod. "She insisted I make her grilled cheese sandwich 'extra crunchy.'"

Elita grinned. "I eated to get bigger. I wanna be a truck!"

"You  _ate_  to get bigger," Optimus corrected her. "And at the rate you're growing...wait, let's compare with my hand and see."

Optimus leaned forward, letting Elita climb down. She stood up straight and tall. He held his immense hand vertical next to her and let his fingertips touch the floor. The top of Elita's head reached just below the joint connecting his pointer finger to his hand.

"Thirty-four inches. Mikaela? Shall we mark it?"

"Mmhmm." Mikaela grinned proudly. She retreated to grab the engraving kit she used on motorcycles and marked the date next to Elita's newest measurement. It fit right in above the other heights and dates tracing a path along Optimus' index finger. "How about that, Elita? You're as tall as his finger now!"

"She is a weed," Optimus added.

Elita pouted at them. "No weed! I'm 'n Autobot!"

Mikaela patted Optimus' hand and faced her daughter. "And it's time for your nap."

"I don't wanna," Elita whined. "Daddy, don't wanna nap!"

Optimus had the patience of every saint in history.

"You won't be able to watch the fireworks if you're tired later," he said, his baritone voice both firm and gentle.

"Mommy..."

"You have to nap now, honey. You'll fall asleep during the fireworks if you don't. Do you remember how mad you were last year?"

Elita's bottom lip stuck out and her big blue eyes grew even larger. Mikaela scooped her up before she could start full on sobbing.

The little girl whimpered. "Gotta tinkle."

Mikaela rolled her eyes at the delay ploy. "Okay, we'll go potty. Then you have to take a nap, okay?"

Elita, of course, took forever to unbutton her overalls and pee in the child-sized potty chair. After she washed her hands, she froze and stared blankly at the mirror.

"Oh boy." Mikaela whisked Elita into the barracks, set a sheet of construction paper on the floor and handed her a crayon.

It was a remarkable sight. Elita drew a series of Cybertronian glyphs with a dexterity abnormal for a three year old. Her mouth twitched and her eyes rolled. Mikaela knew the patterns of Cybertronian glyphs by heart. She couldn't read them all, but she knew which arrangements stood for text, numbers and coordinates.

Elita created a large, concentric circle of glyphs. Smaller satellite circles surrounded it.

Then she dropped the crayon and burst into tears. "Mommy!"

Mikaela gathered her close. "Shhh, it's all right. It's all right, sweetie."

Elita cried until she fell asleep in Mikaela's arms. Glyph incidents, as Optimus called them, always left her exhausted.

Mikaela gently laid her daughter on the nearby bunk. She kissed her forehead and took her latest work out to Optimus, who stood watch by the large hangar door.

"Optimus, she drew another one. This is the sixth one this week. They all look like this."

"Oh?" Optimus knelt to regard Mikaela. She held up the paper for him to examine. "Ah, I see...now it makes more sense."

He scanned the sheet. His optics emitted rays of light showing all six of Elita's Cybertronian scribbles. They combined into a holographic cube.

"She created a three dimensional image on a two dimensional plane." Optimus rotated the ghostly blue hologram. "These are the coordinates to Cybertron from several pulsars within the galaxy. Or...it points towards where Cybertron was. There is no way to know whether or not it survived the collapse of the Space Bridge."

The homesickness in his voice was almost palpable. He could say Earth became his new home all he wanted, but it didn't mean he stopped missing his homeworld.

Mikaela stepped through the holographic display and kissed the corner of his mouth. "Someday, I hope you'll get to find out. Then you'll be able to lay it all to rest. But if it's still there and you can get back to it in my lifetime, will you take me there and show it to me?"

The hologram dissipated. Optimus' eyes and lip plates tilted into his version of a smile. A sad smile hiding centuries of hardship. "There may not be much to see."

"Elita thinks she can 'fix your sad' by restoring Cybertron."

He shook his head, looking amused. "I-- "

"Optimus!" Ultra Magnus jogged through the hangar doors. His white paint job had a few dirt marks. "Ratchet locked himself in the other hangar. He refuses to open the doors."

"Mm, I see."

"Pardon me...hello, Mikaela." Ultra Magnus nodded to Mikaela and resumed talking to Optimus. "He has been a self-extinguishing risk for the past year, sir. You're the only bot who talked him out of it last time."

"Thank you, Ultra Magnus. Mikaela, this might take awhile." Optimus' facial plating shifted in concern.

She took a deep breath and ruffled Elita's hair. "It's all right. Ratchet needs you. Do what you need to do."

Optimus uncurled to his full twenty-eight foot height. Ultra Magnus joined him and they strode into the sunlight together.

.o

Afternoon gave way to evening, and evening faded into night. Stars littered the sky like sugar grains on velvet. Mikaela found a patch of soft sand and listened to the surf hiss. She still smelled traces of the coleslaw and barbecued hot dog she shared with Elita an hour ago. Nearby, Elita dumped seashells into her green plastic bucket.

Humans and robots alike filtered onto the beach to watch Lennox set off his homemade fireworks. Dino's headlights lit the mortar rack where the setting up commenced.

"Daddy's coming!" Elita called out.

Sure enough, the familiar knocking of a Peterbilt engine approached from the south. The airbrakes hissed and Optimus' human-sized hologram formed right behind Elita.

"Boo." Optimus said.

"Ahh! Daddy!" Elita jumped into his arms. "Lots of shells, look!"

Optimus caught her easily. He grabbed her plastic bucket and carried her back to Mikaela.

"Indeed, you did collect a lot. Do you want to count them tomorrow morning?"

"Yes!"

"We have to wash them off later, or they'll stink," said Mikaela. She looked up at Optimus. "Is Ratchet okay?"

"Yes. There he is." He nodded towards the mortar rack, where Ratchet busily positioned a huge metal tube next to Lennox's setup. The tube stood at an angle pointing over the ocean. Then, he disappeared back into the hangar and reappeared carrying a huge forty-eight inch mortar shell.

Mikaela smiled. "Looks like he took over for Ironhide after all."

"He did more than that." Optimus said without elaborating further.

"Are you ready for some fireworks?" Lennox shouted across the beach.

Cheers, whistles and a few honking horns answered him. Immediately afterward, several beer cans clicked. Someone wolf whistled at the size of the shell Ratchet brought out.

Optimus sat down, holding Elita in his lap. Mikaela scooted closer and he slipped his arm around her. His cool metal surface was a nice contrast to the balmy beach air.

The first volley of fireworks whistled into the air and exploded.

"Loud!" Elita squealed. "Ooh, big one! I like big booms!"

Mikaela's back stiffened despite her efforts to stay calm. Loud bangs did that. The arm Optimus had around her shoulders tightened slightly.

To soldiers, nothing looked or sounded the same as it did before they saw combat. Mikaela didn't understand that until Mission City. Now she knew why people in the military went home full of anger, terror and pain.

She expected the nightmares to start again soon. They always did after the fourth of July.

Bumblebee's stereo blared dance music. A few people got up and danced in the sand while fireworks lit the night sky

Lennox's teammates broke up the display by lighting Spinners and Roman Candles. They gave Lennox time to load up the next set of shells.

"Isn't that pretty, Elita?" Mikaela pointed.

"Real pretty!" Elita chirped back.

The next volley of big fireworks resumed. Mikaela grinned over her shoulder, watching the colors dance off Optimus' face. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

"Stop being such a pussy, Lennox!" Someone hooted. "We want Disneyland!"

"Up yours, Brickman!" Lennox shouted back, laughing. He ran along the mortar rack, igniting several fuses as he went. The resulting burst of fireworks drowned out Bumblebee's music.

Finally, Ratchet gathered the biggest mortar shell into his arms. The soldiers dotting the beach cheered him on as he loaded it into the angled tube.

"Please excuse me." Optimus placed Elita in Mikaela's lap. His hologram disappeared, and Mikaela heard his real body transform. He stood at attention.

All of the Autobots were on their feet. The human soldiers began to salute. Far off, Mikaela swore she heard someone playing  _Taps_  on a trumpet.

Mikaela got up and helped Elita onto her feet.

Optimus raised his hand in a salute.

_Taps_  quietly ended.

Ratchet lit the fuse and patted the tube.

Mikaela saw the shell escape into the sky like a glittering comet. A thunderous explosion filled half the horizon with dazzling white lights. Each sparkle burst into multicolored Cybertronian glyphs. Ironhide's name. The glyphs dissolved one by one until a golden shimmer rained down like stars on the black ocean.

Nobody moved or spoke until the last ember faded.

Suddenly, cheers and applause erupted on the beach. Mikaela stuck her pinkies into the corners of her mouth and whistled. Elita tried to copy her, but all she managed was a funny farting noise. Optimus honked his air horns. Further off, more horns blasted in response. Ratchet flashed his emergency lights and rang his sirens.

Then he raised his hand to touch the smoke lingering in the air. It appeared to surround him before moving off across the beach.

It was better than watching a burial.

Ironhide would've loved it.

"It got loud!" Elita said, covering her ears.

"As if you aren't," Mikaela replied, tickling her daughter's sides.

The little girl squealed in delight. "Mommy!"

"Goodbye, old friend." Optimus rumbled. He knelt and cupped Elita and Mikaela in his hands. "At last, Ironhide is laid to rest...as only he would want it. In a blaze of glory."

Mikaela stroked his thumb. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "That was  _great_."

Elita yawned and rubbed her eyes. "Daddy, tell me Ironhide stories?"

"Hm," Optimus cocked his head. His optics brightened. "I have several. Where should I begin?"

.o

Home again.

Back in the familiar cabin by the fifth of July because of the international date line.

Upstairs, Elita slept peacefully in her bed.

Downstairs, Mikaela, dressed in her slinky red nightgown and nothing else, flopped across the couch in the darkened living room. She watched the digital clock on the wall. Three twenty-five in the morning.

Any minute now, she hoped to hear Optimus' air brakes hiss outside the door.

Sleep tugged on her consciousness. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she sank into dreams of Mission City. She was falling off a skyscraper. Unable to scream, she flailed until strong metal arms caught her.

Mikaela startled awake to those same arms lifting her off the couch.

"Optimus!" She clung to him, her heart still racing.

"Shhh, it's all right. I'm here now." His gentle voice pushed the nightmare out of her memory. He carried her upstairs and laid her down on the king-sized bed.

"What time is it?" Mikaela yawned.

Optimus settled beside her. "Oh four-hundred."

"Mm...I was waiting up for you."

"You didn't have t-- "

Mikaela laid a finger on his mouth plates. "I wanted to. Now, Elita's sex radar finally quit working and she's sleeping through the night."

His optics darkened. "Oh?"

She pulled back the blankets. "Yup, and I don't have to be at work until two-thirty."

"Go on." He joined her under the covers without catching anything on his robotic parts.

Mikaela pulled Optimus closer and smiled. "Help me out of this nightgown and I'll show you how much I missed you."

Amused, he rumbled in her ear, "As you wish."

Skin met metal. He rocked her world, and she moved his. She fell asleep in his arms where everything felt safe.

This time, she dreamed of fireworks.


End file.
